Of Murder, Mistrust and Pineapple
by MegalegU
Summary: Written by me and one Mrs-N-Uzumaki! When Shawn and Gus stumble onto cases that have them inexplicably intertwined, one of them may surface with more than they bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **And we're BACK! My good friend, S-Boogie (**Mrs-N-Uzumaki) **and I were fooling around with Psych role play, the characters and whatnot, and then we both went, DUDE, this could be FOR-REALZ. So here it is. Completely based off what we flung back and forth at each other on IM. I gotta hand it to my S-Boogs - she has fun writing Shawn. And I enjoy being Gus! XD

To check out this story in other places besides this, go to **psychfic (DOT)com **and search for one **Mrs-N-Uzumaki. **Ready and prepare for liftoff!

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><p><em>We hope you enjoy! :P<em>

_Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

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><p>It was very early in the morning – dawn, when Shawn called his best friend, Gus, and demanded he meet him for an "urgent matter". Gus knew that this could range from anything to the local café not serving pineapple smoothies for the day or Chief Vick calling them up for a case.<p>

"Why did you drag me here, Shawn?" Gus exclaimed as he strode besides his best friend, his stride a little slower due to the complete lack of sleep he'd gotten.

"Why else, my chocolate homeskillet? We need a case!" Shawn's exuberant smile only further irritated Gus. How did his friend operate the way he did, with absolutely no sleep?

"Shawn! I told you I had to do my filing and that presentation of the effects between tablets and capsules. I don't have time for a case right now. And I told you not to call me homeskillet!" Gus rolled back his shoulders, glad he'd gotten that off his chest. He knew Shawn wouldn't care if he had to meet the _president; _when Shawn was focused on something that was _all _he focused on. At least he'd gotten to say what he wanted to.

"Look, if it helps I'll even help you on it later." Shawn offered, uncharacteristically.

Gus snorted. "You know the difference between the effects of tablets and capsules?"

"Sure! Tablets are small but…_effective_, while time capsules-"

"Oh. My God."

"Well what do you expect? You think I cram a book's worth of information about drugs for fun?" Shawn rolled his eyes indignantly.

"Right, 'cause the last time you read a book was _The Great Gatsby_ in high school." Gus retorted.

"Hey! I'll have you know that was very educational!" Shawn said, wounded.

"You just liked the parts with Daisy." Gus smirked.

"That may have played a huge part. And I would've preferred Scarlett Johansson to take on the role but Carey Mulligan managed to pull it off surprisingly well."

Gus huffed in response and then indignantly added, "You know, some of us have legitimate jobs to do, not just laze around and watch Murder She Wrote."

"As it happens, Gus, I'm a psychic DETECTIVE. So that IS my job." Shawn couldn't be more delighted to have Gus in the wrong.

"Your job is laying around waiting for me to finish mine!" Gus looked at his friend.

Shawn gasped in mock disbelief. "You are my partner! Mi amigo! Mi hermano!"

"Mi pain in the ass." Gus said dryly.

"My point IS," He ignored his best friend's remark, "you're in this business equally as am I, therefore it is OUR job! Which should be just as important as your other job…scratch that, MORE important."

"Well, you'll just have to wait. Those Netflix subscriptions aren't free, you know." Gus grumbled, picturing his desk, usually clutter-free, laden with bills that Shawn _never _paid.

"Of course they're not free; I'm paying for them."

"You mean_ I'm_ paying for them!" Gus closed his jacket around him from the slight cold weather.

"I'm taking part in paying too!"

"With what? Monopoly money?" Gus asked incredulously.

"It's totally legit!" Shawn's arms gesticulated to punctuate his statement.

"Legit in the way that our last secretary was 'legit'? Even though she didn't speak a word of English?" Gus could still remember that fateful day of missing a call from his boss, who was subsequently irritated by the suave Russian woman's lack of English.

"Are you complaining about the fact that we had a hot woman working for us? Unlike Leslie, who looked better than the both of us put together?" Shawn said all this assuredly, like he couldn't possibly be wrong.

Gus shook his head, knowing this conversation could only end badly, and continued following his friend. "Do you even know where we're going Shawn?"

"Huh…" Shawn abruptly stopped walking.

"You see, this is why I refuse to go anywhere with you in the mornings. You're too easily distracted. I need a reliable, capable person for this business!" Gus could feel the familiar burst of anger welling up inside him again.

"Hey! How many times did I manage to save our asses in tight situations? I thought so!" Shawn started walking again, trying to keep up with Gus's agitated pace.

"And how many times did we land into those tight situations because of a certain someone?" Gus tilted his head.

Shawn's reply was cut off by the ringing of his phone. "Hang on...mi padre is calling. Probably wants me to help him fix that ancient relic that he calls a computer. That man needs to live in the twenty-first century." He answered his phone. "Yo, pop! Listen I can't talk right now-"

Gus heard the dejections on the other line while Shawn spoke over them.

"I'm very busy solving a case. Adios!" With that, he disconnected the call. Within the next second Gus' phone rang.

Guster warily answered. "Hello?"

"Dude, is that my dad?" Shawn whispered.

"Shh!" He shushed his friend. "Hi, Mr Spencer. Yeah, I know…look, I'm very busy right now- I need to finish a very important project so if you don't mind…look Mr Spencer, I don't have time to…no, Shawn's not here right now. He's, uh…" He turned to look at his friend urgently.

"Chasing a suspect! Say that!" Shawn jumped up and down.

Gus held his phone between his hands. "He won't believe that!"

"Say it!" They spent the next few seconds bickering until Gus finally gave in, "We're, uh…running after a suspect. He's very fast and I need to go! Bye!"

Shawn grinned. "Dude! You were awesome! Totally convincing!"

"Shawn, you haven't been able to convince a single lie of yours to your father since…well, ever."

"But it'll buy us some time to check out the crime scene." Before Gus could protest Shawn added quickly, "And you said yourself we needed the money."

Throwing his latte into an available bin he took a deep breath and prepared for an oncoming performance.

"THE SPIRITS HAVE GUIDED ME!" He yelled, grabbing the attention of the SBDP and a few onlookers. He opened his eyes and browsed through the expected reactions of his SBPD family; Lassiter rolling his eyes in disgust, Juliet smiling and Karen sighing in his direction.

Shawn continued with his charade. "I'm sensing…oh Gus! It's HOOOORRIBLE!" Beside him, his partner sighed wearily, refusing to play along. So Shawn latched onto his shoulder like a damsel in distress and pressed on. "I see blood…lots of blood…"

The head detective etched an astonished expression in form of total mockery. "Thank you for that, Spencer; you've discovered a murder in a murder scene! I'm so glad we hire you!" The cadence of his voice was very clear to anyone listening that he meant exactly the opposite of his statement.

Karen took the lead once more before a discussion could escalate between the two. "Glad you could make it, Mr Spencer, Mr Guster."

Gus nodded in acknowledgement. "Chief."

"Jane Philips," Vick continued, "discovered this morning by the beachside. Her body washed ashore." The five of them circled the corpse in the beach. "There seems to be no sign of foul play and her death is currently concluded as a result of drowning." She nodded towards O'Hara as a signal for her to fill in the rest of the gaps.

"We think it may be a suicide. According to her friends and family she's been on anti-depressants for six months."

"Prozac?" Gus offered, Juliet nodding in response. Being a pharmaceutical salesman gave him an expansive knowledge of medication, including anti-depressants. Prozac was the one Central Coast Pharmaceuticals urged him to push most.

"What I need you to do, Mr Spencer, is-"

"Divine any suspicious activity that may have taken part in her tragic fate?"

Karen formed a bittersweet smile.

"Well…let's see what the spirits have to say about our Jane." While lifting his fingers towards the side of his head, Shawn's eyes discreetly glanced at the still figure, taking note of some make-up still clinging to her face, the flowery dress, the quite manicured fingernails, a faded stamp imprinted on her hand, expensive earrings and a heart-shaped bracelet. "I'm sensing…that she did NOT kill herself."

Lassie rolled his eyes. "There's a surprise."

Ignoring the sceptical detective the pseudo-psychic continued. "This woman was on her way to a date, when she was then viciously attacked and mercilessly thrown into the sea."

Juliet cut in. "You're saying she was dead before she hit the water?"

"I'm not saying anything, Jules. It's the spirits." Shawn couldn't help letting his trademark grin slip.

"Do the 'spirits' also know that there is no physical evidence of foul play?" Lassiter asked derisively.

"Hmm…the spirits are a little confused on that part…"

Gus awkwardly cleared his throat and jumped in before they were kicked off the case. "Uh, did there happen to be a party last night?" He said, also noticing the flowery cocktail dress.

"The local bar down Passage Street was celebrating its opening anniversary," Juliet filled in, "but other than that, there were no other public social events last night."

Karen stepped up once again. "If you have anything else let us know."

Shawn nodded vigorously. "Let's go, Gus! There's a pineapple smoothie with my name and your money on it!"

Gus looked back, and then followed Shawn nervously. Once they were out of earshot, he let slip what he had been panicking over for the past minute. "Dude, I was at that party."

Shawn snorted. "You? Weren't you the one who said that that bar was filled with 'misdemeanours and miscreants who have nothing better to do with their lives than live forever as drunks'?"

Gus didn't make eye contact. "I...may have said that in the past. But I'd gotten an invitation from an old friend..."

Shawn scrunched his face like he'd been sucking on a lemon. "An old friend- what-" He halted suddenly, the realisation dawning on him. "Oh my God. You were on a date!"

Gus blushed furiously. "What? No!"

"Dude, you were totally on a date! You lied to me! You told me you were going to a meeting! How could you not tell me? We would've double-dated! You and this _mystery woman,_ and me and Jules!"

"I didn't want you to react like THIS, Shawn!"

"React like what? Supportive? I would've made you look like the king of Denmark!"

Gus rolled his eyes at the ridiculous and erroneous comparison. "You always act weird around girls I like, Shawn!"

"That's so not true!" They both reached the blueberry and stepped inside.

"It SO is! Do you not remember the planetarium?"

"That's because she was a suspect at the time! And I still made you look great!"

"You treat all the girls I date like suspects. They do not need your approval, Shawn!"

Shawn scoffed. "Uh-well. That's what I get for being your best and oldest friend who wants nothing but to see you happy. And personally, I, for one, am offended by your accusations!"

"Accusations? They are completely correct statements!"

"They are not! Ooooh stop there! There's this new banana cream cake I wanna try!"

"Shawn, we've got a case to solve." Gus reminded, using his best Parent Voice.

"Gus, you know I can't work on an empty stomach, especially when my sugar levels are so low." Shawn cut back with his best Condescending Child tone.

"And you know that we have something to solve. Besides, you just had a latte twenty minutes ago!" Gus huffed and stared at the road ahead intently. After a moment of silence he said, "I feel weird about this, Shawn. I was there, you know?"

Shawn looked up; humour now ebbing from his face. "Did you see Jane Philips at the party?"

"No, I didn't. There were too many people."

"Do you remember any suspicious behaviour?"

Gus thought for a second. "Well...there may have been one guy. He was acting a little weird, this tall guy, with a hat on. He tried to buy my...uh...my date a drink and I told him to back off and after that he left."

"Was he drunk?" Shawn asked, rubbing a hand through his mussed hair.

"Well, he was stumbling around a little, so I guess so." Gus said.

"And he just left? Just like that?" Shawn asked curiously.

"I may have used my extreme masculinity to ward him off." Gus said easily, hoping his tone would portray him the way he wanted to be portrayed, but knowing Shawn would see right through him like Saran Wrap.

"And by masculinity you mean: asking him very politely and pleadingly to back off and offering him a drink in return to make it look like you were the big, strong protective type."

Gus looked away. "It may have…shifted…towards that ratio…"

Shawn smirked. "Did she look impressed?"

"As the security guard led him away, maybe." Gus looked away from the road, hiding his flushed cheeks.

"Nice, man!" He lifted a fist towards Gus as he returned the gesture with a smile. "Oh, I need you to make a quick pit stop."

"I'm not buying you any cake, Shawn."

"I need to drop this toolbox at my dad's house. He said if I didn't return this by tomorrow he wouldn't help me on any cases for the next three months."

"Maybe that would be a blessing," Gus grumbled under his breath.

Shawn looked up innocently. "What was that?"

"Fine, we'll stop. But after that it's right to the office."

"And jerk chicken?"

"You know that's right."

The duos were halfway towards Henry's house when Shawn had received another call from the chief about a second body, leaving Gus to make a U-turn towards the coroner's. Once there, they found themselves staring at the three previous detectives they had been in contact with not too long ago, as well as Woody, who stood smiling brightly over the body.

"Body was found in a parking near the bar that had the social event last night," Chief filled in. "Shot in the head." She nodded at Woody whom in turn lifted the cloth covering the head.

Shawn stared intently at the wound. Gus paled. He started tugging at Shawn's sleeve which he in turn waved off.

"Do you have an ID?" Shawn asked while Gus continued tugging, much like an impatient child.

"No," Juliet responded. "We found no wallet on the body. We suspect it was a mugging." Shawn gave her a doubtful look; _two_ bodies near the same area, probably killed in the same night? So _not_ a coincidence.

Gus tugged harder.

Shawn could no longer ignore it, spinning around to confront his friend. "What? If you need air, go on outside, I'll meet you there." Gus then shook his head at the offer and pulled Shawn's sleeve to follow him. Shawn furrowed his eyebrows and shrugged at the rest as he trailed his pale best friend.

"Dude, I don't want to watch you throw up," Shawn started when they were out of the SBPD's line of sight.

"Uh…" Gus turned his head backwards, making sure no one heard them. "Remember when I told you about the guy that tried to hit on my date?"

"So? What does that have to do with-?"

Gus gave him a look.

Then it hit him. "HE'S the guy who was escorted out?"

Gus's face scrunched as if he were about to cry. "Oh my God, Shawn! They're gonna know I was at that party! And I'm gonna turn into a suspect! They're going to lock me and throw away the key! I don't do prison, Shawn! I don't. Do. Prison!" His voice escalated higher with each sentence.

Before they both knew it, Gus continued rambling on, a nervous habit he did in times of complete and utter panic.

Shawn had to put a stop to it before anyone caught a word. "Would you calm down?" He whispered harshly. "Firstly, you have an alibi - you were with a woman the whole night!"

Gus raised his eyebrows as the weight on his shoulder lifted waiting for Shawn to continue.

"Secondly, _no one_ is gonna believe you killed someone, YOU, of ALL people, least of all the SBPD. They know better than to suspect their own." When the pseudo-psychic noticed his best friend's shoulders beginning to sag in relief he continued. "Besides, _I _have a bigger chance of being a suspect than you do." He paused for a moment, trailing towards an earlier memory. "Wait a minute, I _was_. So there."

Gus breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks Shawn, I really appreciate that." Shawn nodded and patted a comforting hand on his best friend's shoulder.

With a final wave of goodbye to Juliet and an arrogant smile towards Lassiter the duo headed back towards the office.

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><p>"Alright, thanks Jules." Shawn disconnected his call and sat back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling for a moment to reflect.<p>

"What did she say?" Gus spoke from his desk, looking up from his laptop.

"She updated me about the toxicology report. Jane's system was full of anti-depressants, as a result causing an overdose." Shawn rubbed his temple for a moment, trying to work it out in his mind.

"So she killed her herself." Gus said flatly.

Shawn immediately disagreed. "I don't think so. This woman was seeing a nice guy who was totally into her, dressed up for an occasion and then just kills herself during the date at public social event?"

"It could've been an accidental overdose," Gus countered with a shrug. "It happens."

"Does it also happen when a second body shows up almost around the same time she was killed, and nearby no less?"

"Okay, so even if the bodies are connected, there's no evidence." Gus shrugged, reaching for a file.

"How else do we work?" Shawn playfully added, then looked at his watch. "Anyways, we need to go. My dad called me again to drop by for dinner."

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Shawn. I told you I had work to do."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll see you tomorrow." With a wave he took a turn towards his parked motorcycle and headed down the road to his childhood home.

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><p>Henry flipped a burger and landed it on the grill. The sound of the food cooking filled the quiet night. He checked his watch again for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. <em>Kid's late…again<em>, he inwardly groaned. Then he heard the familiar sound of a noisy engine. Suppressing the grudge against the vehicle he awaited until his son met him in the back porch. The footsteps behind him became louder until his son's head popped in the door.

"Yo, dad!"

"You're late." Henry responded without missing a beat.

Ignoring his father's expected remark he followed the aroma of food. "Burgers? I thought it was steak night."

"I thought I said burgers."

"Huh…must be thinking about the other two-hundred nights when we had steak." Shawn said airily, as if that was a casual revelation.

"Do you want to host dinner next time? I'm sure we'll both have a lovely time eating Pop-Tarts and Ramen noodles." Henry snapped.

Shawn smiled. "Oooh we could have a Harrison Ford marathon!"

Henry merely responded with a flip of an almost cooked burger.

"Why are you barbequing at night anyway?" Shawn asked a minute later.

Henry sighed impatiently. "Do you have a problem with the food, Shawn?

Shawn waved his hand. "No, no. It, uh, fills the night air with the sweet scent of Burger King."

"Okay, smartass. We can order a pizza if you can't handle it." Henry turned away from the grill.

"Pizza too?" Shawn raised his eyebrows. "Why the generosity?"

Henry avoided eye contact while Shawn began to eye him carefully. "I knew it...there's an angle"

"What? No! Why would there be an angle?" Henry was defensive.

"The urgent message to come by for dinner, the threat of not returning your toolbox by tomorrow and you JUST looked like you were about to confess to something!" Shawn turned to face his pop. "So what was it?"

Henry didn't say anything.

"Oh my God…" Shawn placed a hand on his father's shoulder. "Are you dying?"

Henry harshly yanked his shoulder away and pushed the spatula towards his son's face. "Dealing with you a few more minutes with this, I might." With that he opened the backdoor and walked inside with the plate of burgers.

"Oh, NOW who's the smartass?" Shawn called back as he followed. He sat across the table from his dad and Henry placed the food and utensils in front of them.

"So what is it?" Shawn continued. "Why did you suddenly invite me for dinner so urgently?"

"Can't a father and son have quality bonding time over some burgers?" Henry reached for a bottle of ketchup.

The faux-psychic snorted. "We're the Spencer's, dad. It's never a simple case of bonding time." He took a bite of burger.

Henry sighed. "Okay, well, maybe I have something I need some…" He gritted his teeth, "…help with..."

"Whoa, whoa! Time out!" Shawn dropped his fork on his plate. "Henry Spencer is begging for_ my_ help?

"Shawn...don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Don't tell me. Gutters? Lawn? Or attic? I sure hope you weren't serious about the wet bar."

Henry's gaze shifted away. "It may...perhaps...involve police work."

Shawn's smiled reached his ears. "Oh this is too good! This is very good! You want to HIRE me. Well I should warn you, we do not come cheap. Starters fee is at three-hundred dollars."

"Hey, hey, hey! I did not say HIRE! The word hire did not leave my lips!" Henry protested.

"But it's all over your aura!" Shawn joked, enjoying the clearly uncomfortable look on his father's face.

"This is merely a project a son should do gratefully for his father, who took such graceful care of him for seventeen odd years..." Henry tactfully added on that last bit.

"Graceful care? Is that a joke?" Shawn nearly choked on a swallow of soda.

"Alright, Shawn, I need your help. Happy? I need _your_ help." Henry crossed his arms.

Shawn grinned wildly. "Hang on, hang on, I need to savour this moment." He lifted a finger to halt Henry from continuing. "Wait...waaaait…let it sink in and embrace it…"

The ex-cop slapped a palm over his face regretfully as Shawn began inhaling deeply and exhaling loudly.

"ALRIGHT, that's enough, Shawn!" Henry rolled his eyes.

"Okay, okay!" He chuckled in response and bit down again on his burger. "What's so important that you had to actually drag me down here for? I sure hope it doesn't include scaling fish."

"Shawn, just shut up one second." Henry exclaimed, receiving one of his son's infamous eye rolls. "This is a very serious matter and I need you to treat it that way. This involves...a past case that needs to be reopened. I need you to help me with something. It's a little difficult, trying to get old files nowadays...and since you have a, uh..." He began to grumble, "…connection...with the station..."

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Shawn held out a hand to his ear and smiled. "I didn't hear you."

"FINE! I'll do it myself then! I still have connections." Henry got up from the table and went to stand in front of the sink and look out the window, which gave a view of the backyard.

"Okay, okay! Consider me hired!" He held his hands up in surrender. "Wait - if you have your own connections why are you asking for my help?"

"Because it's faster that way; and since you are _currently_ employed by the SBPD I wouldn't be breaking any rules. So to speak."

Shawn nodded. "Now that we got that out of the way, how shall we deal with the fees?"

Henry growled in return.

"Wait..." Shawn held up a palm.

Henry turned to find his smile gone and a sober expression forming in return.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Henry asked, listening to a very still house.

"I think..." Shawn stood up and leaned his head towards the supposed noise.

"Shawn, if this is one of your-"

"Shhh!" He held his hand up again to quiet his father. "I think there's someone..." With that he walked away.

"Shawn!" Henry called out. "Shawn, get back here!" He turned away from the sink and tried to follow his son, when suddenly all the lights went out. "What the-!" Henry's cop instincts immediately kicked in and instantaneously retrieved a gun stashed in a secret hiding place.

"_Dad?_" Shawn whispered loudly from the other room. "_Did you do that?_"

"_Shawn?" _Henry hissed back, unaware of Shawn's former inquiry.

Shawn tried to go back to the kitchen but it was too dark. He took out his phone and allowed the device to provide some light. He swept it over the carpet, watching his sneakers form a pathway back. "_Dad? Hello?_"

All of the sudden a hand grabbed his mouth from behind while another arm snaked around his throat. Shawn struggled against the chokehold and tried to scream despite the gloved hand pressing hard against his face. He felt instant panic surge up inside him but couldn't move.

He continued to claw at the hold, but it was getting harder to breathe, his eyes watering.

"Shhhhh…." He heard a man's voice quietly whispering as Shawn's attempts began weakening, his arm's once desperate, tight grip slackening.

Then the detective's body went limp against the killer's hold and he slowly levelled Shawn to the floor, with hardly a noise at all, and headed toward his next victim.


	2. Chapter 2

_****_**A/N: **If anyone doesn't know, I've recently made a one-shot under my name on here called** On The Way Back Home **and my wonderful friend (and co-author on this, duh) **Mrs-N-Uzumaki_'_s** recently made one too! Look her up on here or on psych fic (DOT) com! Do iiiiiiiitttt!

P.S. Hope ya guys like this. Please review and let us know!

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><p><em><strong>Previously on Murder and Mistrust<strong>_

_All of the sudden a hand grabbed his mouth from behind while another arm snaked around his throat. Shawn struggled against the chokehold and tried to scream despite the gloved hand pressing hard against his face. He felt instant panic surge up inside him but couldn't move. _

_He continued to claw at the hold, but it was getting harder to breathe, his eyes watering. _

_"Shhhhh…." He heard a man's voice quietly whispering as Shawn's attempts began weakening, his arm's once desperate, tight grip slackening. _

_Then the detective's body went limp against the killer's hold and he slowly levelled Shawn to the floor, with hardly a noise at all, and headed toward his next victim._

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><p>"<em>Shawn! Where are ya'?<em>" Henry hissed, gun in hand and siding with his face. It was no use using it; he couldn't see a thing. His eyes squinted against the obscurity trying to find the stairs towards his basement in hopes of landing towards the source of light within the household.

At the sound of a door squeaking, the ex-cop immediately turned backwards and aimed his gun towards the sudden noise. "_Shawn, is that you_?" he asked, failing to receive a reply from his unusually quiet son. He desperately tried to quell the panic flaring up that refused to go away.

After the endurance of bumps and bruises, followed by swelling toes and expletives, Henry had finally managed to reach the fuse box. He immediately noticed the small lever had been pulled down. Henry reached for it and pulled it back up, and within seconds, the lights brightened the house once more.

Still left with twenty years of cop instincts pumping through his veins, Henry sneakily made his way back up to the kitchen, which still had its lights off. Thinking there may have been another glitch, Henry made a turn back towards the door leading to the basement, only to have himself pausing when the kitchen lights suddenly switched on. His body swirled to find a man sitting comfortably in one of his kitchen chairs and a gun staring at him from the stranger's hands as his elbow positioned itself on the dinner table.

Henry immediately pulled his gun on him.

"Drop it," the gunman said coolly.

"You drop it," Henry retorted, his voice levelled, ignoring the demand.

"Don't make me say it again."

"Who are you?" the elder Spencer snapped, still keeping his gun levelled at the man, who in turn kept his scrutinising at his chest. "What do you want?"

The gunman twisted his head slightly with an incredulous look. "You tell me, _detective_," he spat the latter word.

"I don't know who the hell you are or what you're doing in my house in this late evening but I suggest you-" the man suddenly stood and stretched his gunned hand with a click of the hammer, interposing Henry's threatening words midway.

"You ruined everything."

"I've heard thirty years' worth of the same words from my son's mouth. So you'll have to be more specific."

"Well I guess I did you a favour then."

Henry furrowed his eyebrows, still keeping his arm firmly at the direction of the gunman. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He kept his eyes trained on the perp's as his head curved slightly towards the opposite room. "Shawn?" he called out, still not receiving a response. A wave of fear tightened his pounding heart. "Shawn!" he tried again, yet with no avail.

"Oh, he can't hear you. Not anymore."

Henry saw nothing but red. "You son of a-" He pulled the trigger.

The gunman ducked immediately and took cover towards a hall through a doorway.

"What the hell did you do?" Henry yelled, trying to focus on here and now. He most certainly was _not _thinking of Shawn's lopsided grin, the way he sauntered into the house and playfully joked with his father not long ago. Now was not the time to be having a flashback reunion of all the ways he'd screwed up by not saying "I love you".

"Only what you did to me!" he yelled back, "It's only fair to take away what you took from me all those years ago!" Henry's eyes widened in fear; _take away. _The words echoed in his head.

The gunman bolted from his position for a split second and took a shot in the open area. The ex-cop leaned over the hallway closest to him.

_He's lying, he must be,_ Henry reassured himself. _Think straight, Henry. He's just trying to stress you out. Think straight, dammit!_ But if that were true, why wasn't Shawn answering? If that were true…what would he do? Shawn couldn't be dead. Just moments ago they'd been bantering over a plate of burgers. As a cop and then a detective, he knew from experience that life could be catapulted to death within seconds, but that was not true for Shawn. Not his _son. _It was not going to end this way.

Another shot pierced Henry's ears and he ducked from instinct. Struggling to keep himself calm, he took quick breaths through his nose. Pulling his gun closer to his face, he abruptly swirled and aimed the gun through the open doorway, only to be met with nothing but the familiar outlook of his kitchen. The absence of the man struck him still.

Without warning, something hard thwacked the back of his head, leaving Henry crashing onto his kitchen floors and his gun stripped from his hands from the surprise attack. The gun then swerved further away and beneath the small space under his fridge. He quickly turned and halted. The dangerous stranger stood over him, with his revolver pointing between Henry's eyes.

The severity of the situation finally dawned on Henry, with stunning clarity. Here he was, a retired detective, spending his prime fishing and bitching at his son to retrieve painful memories out of their attic and now it was all going to end here. On the floor. In his kitchen. A gun pointed at his face, completely helpless. He was _not _helpless. He was Henry Goddamn Spencer. He didn't _do _helpless. He should have fought. He should have fought for his life and he should have fought for his _son's. _

Henry gulped.

"It's over," the gunman snapped, his finger eager at the trigger. Henry shut his eyes waiting for what was coming next.

But it didn't come.

Instead, he heard a loud thud, nothing like the sound of a triggered weapon. He opened his eyes as the gunman's body leaned closer and closer to Henry's side, until it took a collision with the floor unconsciously. He looked back up to a heavy breathing Shawn, swollen, bruised neck and all, with a tightly grasped bat. Henry didn't know whether to laugh or cry or thank the God that he didn't believe in, that his son had just so miraculously appeared before him, injured, but intact nonetheless.

"_That's what happens when you try to pull one over the SBDP's psychic consultant_!" his son quipped croakily.

Henry was still at a loss of words. He just stared. _That's your son, Henry, your son is alive…this is not a mirage. _Say _something. _But he couldn't. The rush of emotions that had washed over him within the past five minutes was enough to paralyse him. He was only human, after all.

"_Too many words,_" Shawn rasped two seconds later, clutching his throat. He noticed his father's lack of a reaction and then, half-heartedly grinned, asked, "_So. Still think going boneless is the 'stupidest tactic' I ever came up with_?"

xXx

"And you didn't see anything?" Juliet asked, concern lacing her tone.

"_I told you, Jules, it was dark. The guy grabbed me from behind and held me in a chokehold._" Shawn kept his head up as the paramedic gingered examined his neck. He sat on the edge of the ambulance, surrounded by the SBPD, his worried best friend and unusually quiet father; his previous placid, childhood neighbourhood was now swamped with curious citizens and flashing sirens. "_My dad was the one who confronted him. Y'know, before I saved him_." He smirked, his easygoing attitude returning.

Henry rolled his eyes. Despite the kaleidoscope of emotions he'd just felt nearly minutes ago, he could still be irritated by his son.

"Are you sure you don't remember him, Henry?" Karen asked, noticing the way the once-detective kept his eyes protectively focused on his son. Having witnessed their frigid relationship before, she wondered what had happened in the home to make that all evaporate away.

The elder Spencer turned towards Karen and raised his eyebrow incredulously. "The son of a bitch invades my home and attacks my son and I. You think I would_ want_ to forget a bastard like that in the first place?" the ex-detective snapped.

"_And he has feelings too, ladies and gentlemen_!" Shawn remarked, earning him a scowl from his father.

"Well then what do you know?" Lassiter asked, trying his hardest not to rile the man further. He could see the usually carefully guarded man's façade slipping.

"Sir, I need you to step inside so we can take you to see a doctor." The paramedic placed a white-gloved hand on Shawn's shoulder gently.

The younger Spencer shook his head. "_I'm fine, just a little hoarse is all_." The quality of his tone and the way he squeaked out the last word made Henry wince. It was a physical reminder of what he could have prevented. Granted, the kid didn't die but he came damn well too close, in his own home. Just the thought made him clench his fists as a barrage of 'what-ifs' plagued his senses, leaving him standing in stony silence.

"Shawn, you are not fine!" Gus exclaimed. "You were almost choked to death!" his eyes were wide as he tried to convince his best friend. Just that morning they were doing their usual bickering. They'd done this dance – so to speak – countless times before but it still always managed to worry him. It could have been taken all away in one simple action. They stumble onto a case, Shawn manages to piss someone to point a gun at him, and he emerges alive, but rattled, nonetheless.

"_But I wasn't!_" Shawn protested, looking completely undeterred. At close examination, Gus could pinpoint this as genuine disbelief; Shawn really was not concerned at all for himself.

"Shawn, you're going to get checked out," Gus said definitively.

"_Gus_." Shawn shook his head at him, almost condescendingly. "_Am I bleeding?_"

"No."

"_How 'bout on fire?_"

Gus rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. "No."

"_Then I don't need a hospital_." Shawn made the motion like he was going to jump down but then hissed and grabbed his neck. He looked sheepishly at Gus and Juliet, who, in their concern, rushed closer to him.

"You're going," Henry spoke up.

"You still haven't said what you know," Lassiter reminded.

Henry rubbed a hand over his weary face. "He seemed to know why he was there but I sure as hell don't know him." He hesitated. "At least, I don't remember."

"And you both took shots at each other?" Juliet confirmed.

"No, I decided to redecorate my kitchen with bullet holes." Henry waved his arm. He almost contemplated bitterly adding "what do _you_ think?".

Juliet bit back her tongue and turned to Shawn. "And then you grabbed the bat?"

Shawn grinned lopsidedly. "_Good thing dad kept my Little League bat in the closet, huh?_"

Juliet didn't smile. "And then you attacked the intruder?"

Shawn huffed in mock-frustration, though it strained his neck, and then confirmed, "_I hit him with the bat, yes_."

"Henry, why don't you come with us and give your full statement?" Karen asked gently.

Henry looked at the now visible bluish-black marks forming on his son's neck and shook his head. "I'm staying with my son."

"_Aw, dad! I knew you liked me_," Shawn waved his hand, pulling a mockery of a gushing moment.

Karen failed to hide her smile, but let it falter when she saw that Henry didn't share the same amusement. Instead she awkwardly cleared her throat and nodded, indicating that they could talk more later.

Once the ambulance doors closed, Shawn leaned gratefully against the wall as he sat on a gurney, with his father beside him, and shut his eyes. "_Die Hard_," he mumbled.

"What?" Henry turned to him.

"_You. Me. Die Hard. I'm Bruce Willis, you're Justin Long. Someone needs to start playing some CCR._"

Henry snorted. "You've got another thing coming if you think _you're _Bruce Willis. _I _had the gun."

"_Yeah, well, _I_ saved your ass_," Shawn countered, opening his eyes.

Henry's expression softened. "Yeah…yeah you did."

"_Can we drive a taxi into an airplane?_" Shawn asked hopefully, blinking heavily from exhaustion now that the adrenaline wore off.

"Let's settle for you getting to the hospital first." Henry put a hand on his son's head and let a ghost of a smile grace his features as Shawn leaned into his father's side-embrace.

xXx

Back at the Spencers' house, officer Buzz McNab ran up the group, who were still standing there talking. He immediately fixed his gaze on Chief Vick.

"Chief," he panted, putting his hands on his knees, winded.

"What, McNab?" Vick asked anxiously, noticing the absolute panic spread all across his face.

"Chief…" Buzz shook his head, as if disgusted with himself. "He's escaped."

"Who?" Vick asked dumbly.

"The intruder," McNab said, nearly inaudibly; then gathered himself upright to blurt out, "The intruder escaped!"

xXx

Shawn's feet dangled over the bed rest while Henry and Gus stood by his side, sitting in a bout of unbearable silence. He was about to resort to making another crack about _Doogie Howser_ but he didn't wait long before a doctor made her way in.

She smiled at the three of them and then eyed her patient. "Hello, Mr Spencer."

"_Ah!_" Shawn lifted his index finger to stop her with his croaky voice, "_Stop right there_." The doctor shook her head in confusion as he continued, "_See this guy who looks like he just swallowed a bottle of vinegar?_" he pointed to his father, "_That right there is Mr Spencer_." Henry rolled his eyes in annoyance, and, to his surprise, amusement at the same time, remembering a very similar experience with his own father when he was Shawn's age – maybe a little younger.

"_Shawn_," the faux-psychic smiled as he held out his hand to the blonde doctor, "_SBPD Psychic extraordinaire, Val Kilmer devotee and pineapple enthusiast_."

The doctor chuckled and took the offered hand, "Nice to meet you, Shawn."

Gus rolled his eyes and cleared his throat with irritation, grabbing the attention of the young doctor. He raised a seductive eyebrow and smirked flirtatiously as he tried to introduce himself, "And I'm-"

The pseudo-psychic immediately cut him off, "_And this is my partner Gus 'anal boy' Finn." _That left Shawn with a horrified scowl from Gus. "_He earned that nickname in college because he was very neat and organised_." Shawn then pursed his lips in thought. "_Still is_."

Gus visibly fumed at the sabotage.

The doctor raised her eyebrow warily, clearly unaware of the reference. "Right," she added guardedly and reluctantly shook hands with the pharmaceutical salesman. "Wait a minute, I know you!" She pointed her finger at him with recognition, "You were here last week trying to sell Central Coast laxatives."

The colour in Gus' face flushed in embarrassment. Shawn and Henry snorted. Now that was just unfortunate timing.

"Huh…" her eyes trailed awkwardly and added to herself, "Well that explains it then…"

Gus shook his head urgently and ended up stammering before Henry cut in. "Can you take a look now?" he tilted his head towards his son.

"Of course," the doctor replied, all previous humour ebbing from her face. "I'm Doctor Randell. Let's take a look at your neck, Shawn," she said, remembering his previous rant about the use of his name. Lightly and barely lifting Shawn's chin she analysed the extent of his injuries. "Hmm…" Henry and Gus anticipated the prognosis, though the motion wasn't shared with Shawn as he smiled at the pretty doctor and inhaled her strawberry scent.

"Judging by the amount of bruising forming I would say you were held for a good full minute, at least." Henry's expression darkened. "But it'll heal just fine over the next few days. Try to avoid straining your throat. That includes swallowing anything hard or talking too much."

"_Light eating and less talking – got it_," Shawn saluted.

Gus snorted. "I don't know anyone else who will struggle with this as much as you." Dr Randell shot him a confused look. "The very idea of Shawn actually managing to accomplish that is like trying to take away a banana from a starving monkey." Henry smiled at the remark.

"_And yet I would still have a better chance of accomplishing it than you hooking up with Zooey Deschanel,_"Shawn shot back. Before Gus managed to protest someone burst through the door. It was Chief Vick.

Henry blinked at the sudden interruption. "Karen? What the-"

"I'm sorry for the interruption," she said, aiming at Dr Randell. "Henry, we need to talk. Now."

"Can't it wait? I'm in the middle of-"

"It's urgent," Karen declared. Shawn and Gus exchanged a concern look. Henry's eyebrows shot up in curiosity and followed his ex-colleague outside the room.

"_That's weird_," Shawn wondered out loud. Gus nodded in agreement. "_I wonder what that's all about_."

The doctor prepared herself to turn back to conclude her prognoses when a burst of yelling suddenly had the three jerking in surprise.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE ESCAPED?" Shawn knew that particular tone well enough after fifteen years of dispute that it came from his old man. Though not old enough judging by the amount of energy put into that one sentence alone.

Karen fumbled in her words, "He-Henry, please try to calm down-" she said with as much patience in her tone as she can possible give. She, too, like Shawn knew that when Henry was frustrated, his temper rose like the heat of a flame.

"CALM DOWN? THIS MAN GOT AWAY WITH_ TWO_ ATTEMPTED MURDERS!"

The hospital staff and the various patients sitting in the waiting room all turned to focus on the angry bald man and the nervous, blonde haired woman. The patients' faces coiled in uneasiness at the sound of a criminal getting away.

"Henry, please," She firmly stated, eyeing her surroundings. "You're creating panic."

"Karen," he seethed. "Explain to me how an unconscious man, surrounded by policemen, managed to get away while handcuffed to a gurney." he spat the last few words.

"Well obviously he wasn't unconscious. He managed to play with this charade long enough to unlock the handcuffs and escape from the van before anyone took notice." Karen couldn't help but retort, not about to be berated by the man, even if he was nervous about his family.

"Karen, he was _surrounded_. How the hell did he push past the cops?"

"Does it really matter at this point? We should be worrying about where he is and how we're going to find him!"

"_Dad?_" Henry and the SBPD Chief turned towards a confused Shawn and Gus as they emerged through the door. The doctor had left with a final "if it gets worse come back" speech and ended the appointment. The Psych duo now stood beside the arguing cop and ex-cop like a safety barrier, containing them and keeping them within bounds so that their harsh actions wouldn't spread.

"Mr Spencer," Karen began as she turned to the young man with a sympathetic look, "how are you feeling?"

"_Better_," Shawn smiled. "_What's this I hear about 'escaped'?_" He caught a glimpse of his father's scowl towards the Chief.

"Unfortunately, exactly how it sounds," Vick continued.

"He's roaming freely in the street," Henry added bluntly.

"How the heck did he manage to escape?" Gus blurted questionably.

Karen awkwardly shifted her head and grimaced in displeasure. "We underestimated him."

"Let's hope you won't pay dearly for it," Henry said, the essence of discontent lingering in his tone.

Karen looked up. "Henry, Shawn, I apologise profusely. I will do everything in my power to capture this man and keep you two safe."

"_Technically, it's my dad you should keep safe. He was the original target. I don't think he expected me there in the first place__.__" _Shawn added sombrely.

"Still, you are both civilians who were involved as victims of an attack and I would like to keep you both in protective custody until-"

"Whoa!" Both Spencers jumped in simultaneously.

Exchanging a look with Shawn for a split second Henry turned back to the Chief. "If you care to remember I am a retired detective of _twenty years_, I can handle myself."

"_And I'm not the one with the big target on my back. There's no need for you to lock me up_."

"Look, Mr Spencer-" they both looked up "-Henry," Karen corrected. "If he almost managed to succeed the first time then we can't take the chance of him actually accomplishing his task the second time. Let us protect you." She turned to the younger man. "And Shawn, you may be right and he may not be targeting you, but for whatever reason this man holds a grudge against your father and for that he may hold that grudge onto you."

"_Then let me in on this."_

"You know protocol states personal involvement will not be sustained for objectivity. Leave the investigation to my detectives."

"_But Chief_-"

"-AND you need the medical leave. It's also my obligation to offer any counselling you may inquire. That goes for the both of you." Karen was firm in that and she wouldn't budge.

Shawn pursed his leaves and huffed. "_Fine_." Gus wasn't surprised, or Henry for that matter, they both knew he was going to investigate this discreetly with or without the SBPD's help. "_But you have to keep me updated._"

"And me," Henry stepped in.

Karen nodded. "That can be arranged."

"_I'll take the leave but not under protective custody._"

"Mr Spencer, I can assure you, it is for your own good."

Shawn shook his head. "_It's either that or you let me in on the case._"

Karen briefly closed her eyes in frustration.

Henry spoke up like a child, petulantly. "I'm not taking the offer either."

The Chief rubbed her head, feeling a Spencer headache emerging. "Alright," she relented. "But I'm going to assign you an officer, Henry, to watch over you." Before the elder Spencer protested Karen held her ground. "No objections."

"Wait a minute," Gus said, "where are you gonna live, Mr Spencer? Your house is a crime scene now."

Henry parted his lips to form a response but halted when he realised Gus had a point. He scratched the back of his neck. "I don't know…I haven't thought about it."

"I'm sure Shawn wouldn't mind letting you stay with him?" Gus said, earning an incredulous look from his best friend.

"_Whoa!_" Shawn made a grab for Gus's arm and dragged him away from Karen and his father's earshot. "_Dude! What the hell was that?_" His raspy attempt at whispering gave Gus the fuel he needed to convince his best friend.

"You're really going to argue? It's your father, Shawn! He's in danger and needs a place to stay and you're really going to argue?"

"_There's a reason why I left the old man all those years ago in the first place, Gus! We can't live together! It messes with the balance of the very fabric of the Universe! Besides, he's better off in protective custody and it's not my fault he's refusing it."_ Shawn punctuated his statement with a wild gesticulation of his arm, having a flair for the dramatics, like always.

"You know what your father's like. He's just as stubborn as you are and it's just temporary, Shawn. Do you even realise how lucky your dad was that he had you over for dinner tonight? I mean, if you weren't there he-" Gus held himself from continuing, watching the exhausted look on Shawn's face as he placed a thumb and index finger on the bridge of his nose. "He can't be alone," Gus pressed on. "You know that."

The pseudo-psychic sighed. For a long moment he didn't say anything.

Finally, he acquiesced – with quite a heavy sigh and an eye roll that could have moved mountains – "_Alright_," he groaned. "_But he's sleeping on the couch_." In a huff, he marched over to his father, pointed a finger in his face and said authoritatively, "_You're sleeping on the couch_!"

Henry blanched. "I never agreed to this!"

"Actually, Henry," Karen cut in. "I think it's a good idea. That way the officers can watch over the both of you at the same time."

Henry looked accusingly at Gus, who shrank back a fraction from the man's wrath.

Shawn, meanwhile, seemed to be giving Henry, Karen and Gus all a look that could kill, which – though Gus would never voice it – was frighteningly similar to his father's. The only reprieve Gus felt from the whole situation was that while Henry and Shawn, when both stuck in a room together were like a match and gasoline, at least they would be contained, and under watchful eyes…in case they decided to resort to killing each other before someone else tried to.

Shawn looked at his vengeful father and rasped, "_Full disclosure: I leave the door open when I use the bathroom, the TV never strays from ESPN and on every Tuesday night – without fail – I play laser tag with Gus." _

Henry rolled his eyes at the 'routine' Shawn had laid out for him. "I think I'll be fine." Shawn was out of his mind if he thought that ESPN was going to be running all day on the TV. He was not missing an episode of _Desperate Housewives. _

"Well, alright then." Karen looked from one Spencer to another – though, honestly, it was like looking at the same person twice – and then gestured for an officer to come closer. "Officer Richardson, escort these two back to Shawn's residence."

"Whoa – wait a second!" Henry protested. "I don't even get to go back and grab any clothes from my house?"

"You can when it's not being processed," Karen reminded him. Henry fixed her with a glare that could melt polar ice caps but she just looked back at him.

"_Yes_!" Shawn mock-enthusiastically punched his fist in the air. "My house won't get termites from your horrible shirts."

Henry opened his mouth to say something, but Karen cut him off.

"You will be escorted back," she said crisply, as if that ended the whole thing, which, in true Karen fashion, it did.

Henry and Shawn looked at each other like two cowboys in a Western standoff, their sudden protectiveness emotion hovering above the two of them from earlier dissipating faster than a popsicle on a hot day. Finally, they both turned and walked side by side, with a good distance between them, to the police car whereby Buzz stood waiting with the same look a child would portray as if he had just got into trouble.

Richardson made his way into the driver seat as Buzz opened the back door for the Spencers.

Henry then turned to Shawn, "You do realize that means I'll have to wear some of _your _shirts, right?"

Shawn responded immediately. "Burn them when you're done."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Yo! So we've got another one for ya guys! This was a lot of fun for us to write, actually! Please shoot us a review and let us know what you think!

* * *

><p>Shawn led his father up the stairs to his apartment building, greeting other tenants of the place – a smile at the woman in 4A, who gave Shawn a plate of cookies when he moved in, a fist bump to the older man that taught chemistry at the local community college and a "Hey, Randy, how's it going?" to the sandwich maker with the goatee and the pet lizard. Henry, in amusement, watched Shawn interact with all the people, but didn't say a word.<p>

Shawn was about to opt for the stairs when Henry ever-so-slightly grazed Shawn's elbow with his hand and guided him to the elevator. Something about the gesture made Shawn oblige and they rode in silence up until Shawn reached the door to his place. He fumbled in his pants pocket for his key – extracting three loose sunflower seeds, a navy button and an expired Orange Julius coupon before retrieving what he was looking for.

He turned the key in the lock, swung open the door and smiled. "_Welcome to my humble abode!_" his arms spread out from his sides widely and he spun around with a flourish, as if showcasing the apartment, in all its glory.

Henry warily stepped in behind his son and raised his eyebrow with an analytic eye for detail. A few bottles of beer on the kitchen counter, a few jackets left astray on the floor beside his coat rack, sandwich crusts in the sink, and some plaid shirts thrown on the floor, but all in all Henry would've expected a lot worse.

"_Uh, I'll just fetch what I can find in your size_," Shawn said awkwardly as he made his way to his wardrobe.

Henry sighed and searched for a clock. His head whirled in every direction until finally landing on a small clock placed, almost hidden, beside the microwave. _No wonder he's always late, _Henry thought.

Shawn came back into the room. "_I only have one extra pair of blue pyjama pants_." He threw the pair of trousers at his father along with a white t-shirt.

Henry played around with the fabrics in his hands and leaned his head in to sniff the items. A faint familiar scent of pineapples mixed with a combination of other odd smells flared at his nostrils. "When was the last time you did the laundry?"

Shawn spent the next couple of seconds estimating his answer. "_It...doesn't matter. It's clean enough_."

Henry eyed the clothing suspiciously, then sighed in defeat

"_Bathroom's in there_," Shawn spoke, pointing towards his right. Henry followed the pointed direction without a further comeback.

Once Henry reappeared Shawn was already dressed in his own blue plaid nightwear trousers and no shirt, his defined biceps peeking out from underneath the blue blanket draped over him as he sat on the couch, while watching an episode of_ Twin Peaks. _He was so engrossed in the episode he didn't notice his father had taken a seat beside him. Finally, feeling the weight of the couch beginning to drop, he glanced to his side and watched as his father sensibly rubbed the back of his head.

Shawn furrowed his eyebrows in slight concern. "_You alright?_" he asked.

Henry whirled his head in surprised to his son who was a few inches away. "Uh, yeah. I'm fine," the old man replied, when in truth, a headache had been developing since the blow at the back of his head.

Shawn sighed, knowing his father would never admit to a single moment of weakness. "_Aspirin's in the bathroom_. _There's some __Paracetamol__ for your back too._"

Henry momentarily let a smile slip before then squinting his eyes in thought. "You mean 'Acetaminophen'?"

"_Are you having brunch with Gus behind my back again?_" Shawn said, to which his father raised a curious eyebrow. Shawn rolled his eyes. "_I can only pronounce 'Paracetamol'._"

They both turned their attention towards the screen to watch the episode, which incidentally rushed to commercial a second later. "Why do you have two packets of painkillers?" Henry probed a few seconds later, a cadence to his voice that was one part curiosity, part detective.

Shawn shrugged casually. "_No reason_," he simply stated, which in true Shawn fashion, meant it wasn't up for discussion.

Once the credits rolled onto the screen Shawn turned off the television after asking whether his father needed it or not. Shawn then made his way to his bedroom and grabbed two pillows and a blanket and made his way back. He threw the items onto his father's open hands and stood there for a few seconds while the elder Spencer made a bed out of his couch.

"_So…uh_…" Shawn shifted his feet awkwardly. "_Goodnight_." His father looked up and merely nodded before focusing back at positioning his pillows.

Shawn nodded and turned away. "Shawn-" his father called out, which made the young man turn back. "I just wanted to…say…um…" Henry rubbed his neck uncomfortably before finally adding, "Thanks. For this." He shifted awkwardly as he said the words, as if he'd had to pull them out physically, like he was back at the docks and he was casting his line in the water and hoping to catch a fish.

A smile small formed on his son's lips as Shawn turned to make his way to his bedroom.

xXx

Shawn tossed and turned trying to find a decent, comfortable spot in his bed in a fruitless attempt, failing in the end and checking the digital clock by his bedside to discover it was 3AM. With a disgruntled sigh, he opted for a bathroom break.

Shawn flushed the toilet and yawned tiredly, bringing a hand to his mouth as if to capture the sound. Realising his throat was drier than the Sahara desert he made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. It took Shawn several seconds to notice there was a shadowy figure sitting beside the counter already.

"HOLY-!" Shawn shrieked and jumped backwards, feeling his heart leaping in fear before finally recognising that the creepy figure was just his father. He switched on the lights for a better look. "Jesus! You scared the crap outta me!" He raised his hand and stroked his hair before rubbing the very little remnants of sleep that survived the unexpected shock. "What the hell, dad?"

"Shawn? What're you doing up?" Henry replied, his voice elevated an octave.

"What am _I_ doing up? It's my apartment! I can do what I want! What're _you_ doing up?" Shawn retorted. "It's three in the_ morning_!"

Henry took notice of the fact that his son sounded healthier while he made a grab for some water from his fridge. "I…couldn't sleep." Henry finally said, taking notice of his son's actions.

Shawn raised his eyebrow and deciphered the sidelong glance as his father wanting a drink as well. He offered his father a glass and Henry took it with a mumbled "thanks". "So you decide to just sit there in the dark all creepy looking?"

Henry didn't reply. Shawn took the opportunity to silently scrutinise his father's position on the chair. He took notice how he winced in pain with any slight movement from his spot. Shawn stared down at him in slight sympathy as his father gazed at his now empty glass. The old man barely got any good sleep with a normal bed, much less on the sofa.

Shawn sighed and swallowed down the rest of the water in his glass, and then he made a grab for his father's and placed then into the sink. He didn't turn for a moment, the gears shifting in his head.

"I'm going to watch _The Outsiders_," Shawn said simply, plunking himself down on the couch and spreading out his arms like a raven. "It plays at this time every night. You probably won't get to sleep with all the noise. Why don't you take the bed?" his eyes flickered for the briefest moment, wondering if the gesture would dawn on his father.

Henry stood and hissed in pain momentarily. "Wait what?"

"Somebody has to make sure you don't mess with my channels."

The elder Spencer stood looking dumbfounded for a good full minute, while Shawn switched the TV back on and flipped through a few channels, as if engrossed in looking for the movie_. _With a bewildered expression, Henry found himself slowly turning towards the bedroom, towards the comfort and familiarity of a mattress. Any previous notions of rejecting the cushioned offer were lost on the man as he sank down onto the bed and pulled the covers over him, unaware that, a few feet away, his son had already fallen fast asleep, the remote still in his hand.

xXx

Long before the sun could make its good graces of light shine through the _Breakfast Club_-printed curtains (yes, apparently, they _did _exist and Shawn found them), Henry found himself awake and staring up at the white ceiling. He certainly didn't feel revived and energized for the day, but he was definitely awake. He shifted into a sitting position, easing tightness out of his back by stretching his arms out and pushing them in front of him, hearing a few joints crack as they woke up along with him.

He heard a faint noise coming from the other room and he blindly fumbled his way through the small hallway and then, as his eyes adjusted, saw his son lying on the couch on his stomach, his face lying sideways on the cream-colored pillow, the blanket falling halfway off of him, and lightly snorting. A smile threatened to take flight on his features. He gently pulled the remote out of his son's grip, set it on the table in front of him and slowly draped the blanket back over Shawn, pulling it up a bit and then pausing at the marks on his neck briefly. He quickly pulled the blanket over the sight and flicked the television off.

Henry sauntered into the kitchen and opened his son's refrigerator, feeling wary in the process. The contents were none too impressive: two bottles of some cheap beer, a pineapple in the corner and a few leftovers of Chinese takeout boxes that must have been bad by now, given the rank smell they emitted that seemed to take over the fridge like a dominator. _It's no wonder he's always eating at my house, _Henry thought.

Within a few minutes, Henry changed into the clothes he'd been wearing the other day, grabbed his leather wallet off the counter, thankful he'd had the foresight to lift it from his home before he left. He grabbed Shawn's key ring, too, dangling from which were his flat key, the Psych office key, Henry's house key – which he was supposed to have given back to him – and a motorcycle key (which Henry may or may not consider hiding).

Henry shut the door behind him gently.

xXx

Shawn opened his eyes to a bright morning, the sunlight managing to stream some of its rays through the spaces in the blinds. Slowly, he rose from the couch and winced as he turned, his fingers ghosting over the marks on his neck that were blooming even brighter now. Spots danced in front of his eyes for a moment until they adjusted and a quick glance at the clock told him it was a little past noon. His aching muscles told a different story.

He looked around his apartment with a curious eye, noticing how his counters seemed a tad less cluttered. He would have to give his dad a talk about rearranging things. Maybe make a contract. Ooh, and if he _did _violate the contract, he could get him to buy him a pineapple smoothie. Come to think of it, now that his dad was living with him, he should pay rent. His dad wouldn't know the difference and he could use the money to renovate the Psych office. He knew Gus wanted that portable dance floor.

Suddenly, the door clicked open and in walked Henry, his arms laden down with grocery bags. His easygoing demeanor and whistling had Shawn raise an eyebrow. Did his father have to be so…cheery?

"What the hell are you doing?" Shawn asked in wonderment.

Henry shot him back a look that was just as incredulous. "Right now I'm filling your fridge with real food I bought for ya generously." He unloaded the bags onto the floor and opened the fridge door.

Shawn raised an eyebrow. "How long were you out for?"

"About an hour, tops." Henry hefted a gallon of skim milk onto the shelf and then looked back at his son. "I'm gonna make us some breakfast. What are you thinking? I've got a lot of eggs." The whole mood of it all was…not unsettling…but certainly a different kind of feeling. It was…too…warm. Henry Spencer didn't just adjust to things so accordingly.

Shawn shook his head in amazement. "Dude – who are you right now? Our last names aren't Brady." Somehow he'd anticipated this whole father-son living together situation going a lot differently. Henry ignored the comment and browsed the kitchen.

"If you think you're going to find a whisk, think again," Shawn remarked.

"Do you have _anything_ in your kitchen?" Henry shot back.

"Look under the sink." With that, Shawn yawned and dragged his drowsy physique towards the bathroom.

xXx

Several minutes later Shawn was out of the shower, dressed, hair-gelled an' all, and taking a seat opposite his breakfast-eating father, who had a plate heaped with eggs in front of him and a tall glass of juice.

"What the hell do you do in there for forty-five minutes?" Henry said. "And you have the nerve to call _me_ a metrosexual?" His tone was harsh but there was a faint glimmer in his eyes, a tease.

"Whatever attracts the ladies, pop," Shawn replied. "And at least I can name more than one person who takes even longer than I do to get ready in the morning; who, FYI, exist _after_ the Old West."

Henry raised his two hands, with a mostly-eaten piece of toast in one, and snorted. Placing what was left of the toast on his empty plate he stood as he mockingly patted his son's cheek. "Whatever makes you happy, Shawn."

The young Spencer placed a forkful of scrambled eggs in his mouth.

"I'm going to head back to the house and see if I could sneak out some clothes and my fishing gear."

"Have fun with that," Shawn replied.

Henry headed to the front door but turned at the last minute. "Shawn, I know nothing's going to stop you from investigating this…" Shawn looked up, a curious eyebrow arching. "Just be careful." The tender warning was laced with hesitation and maybe another emotion Henry was unfamiliar with and the effort had Shawn shocked into stillness for a moment.

Shawn pursed his lips and nodded in his father's direction as he made his way out. After he finished his breakfast he grabbed his phone and dialed a number from memory.

"_Hello?_" the voice on the other line picked up.

"Jules! How's the hottest blonde detective of Santa Barbra doing this morning?"

Juliet sighed. "_What do you want, Shawn?"_

"Why do you always think I want something?" Shawn didn't need to be there to see that skeptical raised eyebrow look. "Care to give me an update about the case?"

"_Shawn!_"

"Whaaat? The Chief agreed to it! You can even ask her yourself!"

Shawn heard another, familiar voice in the background. "_Who is that? Is that Spencer?_"

"_Carlton!_" She called back at her partner to shut him up. "_Alright_," she relented with a sigh. "_We've just talked to her sister Jenny Philips but we didn't get any answers._"

"Alright, thanks, Jules." Shawn hung up and speed dialed his best friend. Hearing a click on the other line that ended the monotonous ringing Shawn spoke, "Dude, we have a breakthrough."

xXx

When the door opened the woman eyed the two strangers on her porch questionably. "Can I help you?"

"Hello, Miss Philips, my name is Shawn Spencer, Head Psychic for the SBPD," he turned to Gus, "And this is my partner, Slick Heidi." Gus didn't even attempt to hide his eye roll. "We'd like to ask you a few questions about your sister Jane. May we come in?"

"Uh, yeah," she opened the door. "Make yourselves comfortable."

"Thank you," Gus smiled. "We're very sorry for you loss." Jenny nodded her head but said nothing.

Taking a seat on a couch Shawn spoke up, "Miss Philips-"

"Jenny," she interrupted. "You can call me Jenny."

Shawn smiled. "Jenny, did you know she was on medication?"

"Yeah, sometimes I renewed her prescription. But-" she tightly held her lips, holding back her tears. "She said she was getting better. I _believed_ she was getting better! I just-just couldn't believe she would-" she halted before her voice cracked.

Shawn gazed down at her in sympathy as Gus offered a tissue. After making sure the young brunette gathered herself Shawn continued, "Jenny, when was the last time you saw her?"

"Not long before she died." Jenny sighed, "The morning before…" she briefly hesitated. "The previous morning…y'know be-before….yeah, we went to-"

"Stop!" Shawn interrupted, making the whole room go quiet. "I'm getting something…Seaworld Aquarium."

Jenny parted her lips in surprise. "Yes! How did you know that?" Shawn raised a mischievous eyebrow and a finger to his forehead. "Right," she chuckled, a small trace of humour lingering. After a few seconds of stony silence she spoke up, "Would you like some tea? Coffee?"

"Tea would suffice, thank you." Shawn smiled.

When Jenny left the room Gus turned towards his best friend. "You don't drink tea, Shawn."

"Simon Baker does," Shawn shrugged casually.

"You're not Simon Baker!" he hissed. "By the way, how _did_ you know that?"

"See that picture in the corner there of Jenny wearing that Seaworld cap next to Jane?" Shawn pointed his finger towards the picture frame.

"But that picture could've been taken months ago!"

"Jane had a faded stamp of the same logo on her hand, which indicates it was a recent event." Gus raised his eyebrows, somewhat impressed. "Jenny didn't do it, Gus. She had no motive and she seems genuinely stricken by grief."

Jenny walked back into the room. "Uh, the tea will take a few minutes-"

"That's alright, Jenny," Shawn said. "Something came up and we need to go."

"Oh…well, okay. Um…" She made a start towards her door when Shawn stopped her.

"That's okay, we'll see ourselves out." With that Shawn and Gus headed outside.

"Now what?" Gus started as they both entered the blueberry.

Shawn pulled over his seatbelt. "Now…" he sighed, "now we're back to square one."

Gus turned on the ignition. "So you're still not sure she didn't kill herself?"

"No, Gus, I'm not sure," he replied. "Now I'm certainly sure."

xXx

The Psych phone rang once, twice, three times before Shawn finally picked up after checking the caller ID.

"City Morgue - you kill 'em, we chill 'em," Shawn answered jovially.

"_If you answer our office phone like that one more time I will cancel our DQ membership_," Gus threatened over the phone.

Shawn gasped. "You wouldn't!"

"_I would! You know, you could benefit from eating some actual food once in a while, Shawn_."

"I'll have you know I had a perfectly healthy breakfast meal this morning."

Gus rolled his eyes. "_The first time in ten years. And only because your father cooked it!_"

Shawn sighed. "Did you call just to berate me about my unbalanced diet or to talk actual business?"

"_When have you ever cared about 'talking business'?_"

"When you started to take interest in my eating habits. Seriously, dude, find yourself a real hobby." Before Gus made a comeback Shawn cut him off, "And coin collecting doesn't count. Not for you anyway. It's for old men with orthopedic-soled shoes and dandruff."

Gus absently stroked his head. "_Whatever, Shawn. At least I have a better hobby than stalking my own best friend._"

"I promised I'd do that only on Wednesdays now!"

"_You told me you do it on Tuesdays!_"

Shawn paused. "Did I just say Wednesdays? I meant…Tuesdays."

Gus almost crushed his phone in his grip. "_Wait…does that mean you know about the…_"

"Yup. We can negotiate a financial agreement-"

"_Shawn!_"

"How about you pay for pineapple pizza the next six months?"

"_SHAWN!_"

"The next year?"

"_I already pay for office rent, pay for the meals we have_…" And before Shawn knew it, his best friend began a session of ranting. "…_you always steal my credits to pay for food I don't even share with you and the holidays you don't deserve_…"

Shawn sighed before interposing midway, "OH! And, before I forget, your Nordstrom credit card is maxed out again."

"_WHAT? SHAWN, WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT STEALING MY CREDIT CARDS_…"

Shawn spoke over his best friend's screaming session, "Talk to you later, buddy." He hung up.

No more than two seconds later the phone rang once more. Shawn picked up. "I swear to you Gus, that's the _only_ card I used this month…okay, maybe week."

"_Shawn Spencer._"

The deep, somber tone of that voice had Shawn sitting abruptly on his chair. "Who is this?"

"_If you want information about Jane Philips, meet me at the Santa Barbara Fishing Marina in approximately half an hour. Alone." _The line then disconnected.

Shawn slowly placed the phone handle back into its charger and reiterated the earlier, unexpected conversation in his mind. He spent a brief thirty seconds mulling over his choices. He supposed that, because the fishing marina was a public place, whoever it had been on the other line wasn't likely to do something ridiculous, especially in broad daylight. The only problem was...how would he get there? His motorcycle keys were MIA and he didn't even have the time to retrieve his vehicle all the way from his father's house and head towards the Marina before the half an hour is up.

Only one thing left to do…

xXx

Gus wouldn't mind. At least he was pretty sure he wouldn't mind.

Okay. So maybe he should bring back a bucket of jerk chicken on his way back, because Gus will _kill_ him when he finds out that Shawn burrowed the blueberry. But Shawn needed the ride. It was for the case after all.

Besides, Shawn didn't need to have borrowed the car if Gus hadn't hidden his motorcycle keys to get back at him. When did he get the time to anyway? How did he even reach those keys under his own nose? He'd have to think about that later because now it's back to the case. The guy had said he would meet him by the port. Shawn could only pray he didn't bump into his father, because if Henry found out he may be meeting what could be a suspect to the case all on his own, he would lecture him to his grave.

Yup. Definitely one of his most hair-brained ideas. But the guy demanded to talk alone otherwise he wouldn't talk at all.

Shawn stared at the empty, slightly down hilled road ahead. Drawing close to the traffic light above it began to swift to red and Shawn lightly pressed against the brake pedal. Only to then realise the car wasn't coming to a stop…in fact, it was speeding up. Shawn pressed harder this time but the car kept moving.

The pseudo-psychic's eyes widened in panic as his foot anxiously smacked against the pedal with unsuccessfully attempts. The Echo car screeched downwards and the ocean ahead was looking closer by the second. Shawn desperately slapped hard on his wheel with loud _honks_ to make others aware of his presence, the sound of cries from pedestrians following thereby after.

Shawn knew well enough at this point he was screwed when the blue car reached the pier. Throwing his arms against his face he felt the car swirl up and take a swan dive into the ocean.

xXx

Henry heard the sound of screaming and looked up to notice a pack of people swarming the pier in shock, staring into a spot of white bubbles forming in the ocean.

"What the hell?" he thought out loud as he stepped off his boat, his fishing rod on his left and a cooler of his newly caught salmon on his right. Amongst the crowd he spotted a familiar fellow fisherman. "Hank!" he called out to him.

Said acquaintance whirled his head to the direction of the retired cop. "Henry! Did you just see that?"

"See what?" They both stared out into the ocean, the earlier spot of white bubbles now slowly dying out.

"A blue car just dived into the ocean!"

Henry raised his eyebrows as he registered his friend's words repeatedly in his mind. "What?"

"Craziest thing I've ever seen!"

Before Henry could respond someone within the crowd yelped, "SOMEBODY WAS IN THERE!"

Henry furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "Say, Hank," his friend turned to him, "what car did you say it was?"

"A blue car," his friend shrugged.

Henry's heart skipped a beat for a split second. He shook his head. It couldn't be. "What sort of car?"

"I SAW SOMEBODY IN THAT CAR!" The same voice screamed again.

"Um…" Hank pursed his lips in thought, "I only caught a glimpse of it but I _think…_it might've been an Echo."

Henry's grip on his rod and cooler dropped beside him with a loud thud that seemed to have a resounding resonance. His legs slowly shuffled closer to the pier until he found himself running to the edge, propelled by a force that was a combination of determination and fear. He didn't know why, but he somehow _knew_ it was either one of them.

If it was Gus, Shawn would never forgive his father for just standing there and letting him drown. If it was Shawn…well, he didn't even want to think about the possibilities of the outcome. Besides, he was pretty sure his mind was completely blank right now anyway, save for the one thought forming in his mind like a constellation – _run_!

So before he could even register what his body was doing or who was calling out to him, he found himself diving into the ocean.

xXx

_Thud…_

_Thud…_

_Thud…_

_Come _on_!_ Shawn inwardly yelled, _Break already! _His lungs were screaming in protest, like they were on fire. But the darn window just won't break. Shawn stamped his fought against the seat window once more before giving that up and using his own shoulder instead.

But it was hopeless. He was running out of oxygen.

Was this it? Was this his tragically written "hero's death"? _Drowning? _

He always imagined his death would result from a selfless act of sacrifice and bravery after solving the biggest case of his career; dying heartbreakingly young during a hot streak; leaving behind a legacy of great hair and pineapple upside down cakes.

He would've at least hoped it would've been painless.

Before he could complete his self-narration something tapped against the window…or more like some_one_.

_Dad? _Shawn couldn't remember the last time he had been so happy or relieved to see his father. But he put a hold on that thought and hoped he would actually _have _the time to think about in the near future.

_SO getting you that new lawnmower you wanted for Christmas! _Shawn watched as his father kicked on the window with as much force as his legs allowed him, his desperate kick thudding against the glass. However, the attempts proved to be as unsuccessful as Shawn's. Henry swam closer to the window and stared at his son with determination. But Shawn didn't reciprocate the same notion. Instead, his eyes stared back with alarm and desolation, a look Henry never wanted to see on his son. One that spoke volumes. A look that conveyed, _I'm leaving. _

Henry shook his head and made a start to whack the window with his elbow. When he noticed Shawn beginning to drift to unconsciousness, his body sinking, his flailing arms slowing, his attempts grew tenfold. He had never felt so desperate for something more. Hope gnawed at his features as he tried to get his son. After what finally seemed like an eternity, but only lasted ten seconds, a small crack emerged, and continued to spread across the window until that final blow smashed it entirely, the pieces separating and giving way to Shawn.

Henry desperately made a grab for the unconscious faux-psychic and pulled him through the gap. He wrapped his left arm around Shawn's chest and swam upwards with his right, towards the bright, awaiting surface.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Don't kill us! Or, well, me. We're a little shaky since we don't have a concrete ending but I (Meg) felt bad that we left all you guys hanging around forever with Shawn stuck in the ocean! So, yeah, here's the next chapter. **

* * *

><p>Henry rose up out of the water like a missile - adrenaline fuelling his system in such a way that it seemed it had been ever-present and only now had it just gotten activated like the flip of a light switch - his son underneath his iron grip, and gratefully inhaled a breath.<p>

When his laboured breathing wasn't accompanied by his son's, he almost lost his again.

He swam towards the offered arms dangling from the pier like a blessing. He pushed Shawn closer to the edge, eyes unwavering, until he was pulled up. He then numbly hauled himself up and joined the several others who had encircled his unconscious son, surrounding him in a fashion that made Henry's palms sweat with anxiety.

Henry knelt beside his son in panic, while Hank sat on the opposite side, and leaned an ear closer to Shawn's chest. Dread overwhelmed him when he was met with a resounding silence and, absently, his fingers laced together to form chest compressions, muttering numbers under his breath.

"I called the ambulance, Henry," Hank seemed to have said, Henry wasn't sure – the way his son lay there motionless made everything else muddled. There could have been sound, there could have been a flurry of activity – of people jostling to get a glimpse at the rescue attempt – but there were only two things existing in the world at that moment for Henry: himself and Shawn.

"Henry?" he called out again. Yet once more the elder Spencer hadn't responded, too engrossed in his compressions, his expression something akin to a brick wall – nameless, faceless, tough – impenetrable. He wasn't stopping for anything – especially not something as useless as a prompt to pull him out of his job. Because that was what it was right then, a job. Emotions could pull someone under if they weren't careful. Henry wasn't allowing himself to feel a damn thing – at least, nothing but the beating of his son's heart.

"You might wanna take it easy on the kid there, Henry," Hank said, taking notice of his friend's harsh compressions, the rough way he planted his hands on the younger man's chest. "Here, why don't you let me take over? Your arms are probably getting tired."

But Henry didn't move away from his task at hand, lost in determination, desperation.

Hank pushed Henry's arms away. "I'll take over, Henry." He was insistent. The hard look in Henry's eyes was almost painful. He wanted so badly to help his son but he was wearing out and Hank could assist in the rescue more diligently – at least physically.

The ex-cop reluctantly allowed his friend to continue reviving his son while he warily placed his own two fingers on the kid's neck, yet not feeling a single beat pulsating against his touch. Desolation curdled at his insides until he forced the gripping feeling away, clenching his teeth to halt any further feelings.

"It's…not…working," Hank said beneath his breath, his words in sync to his attempts in revival.

Henry cursed under his breath, his previous thoughts of not allowing himself to feel anything evaporating. Hank was not about to determine his son's fate. It was Henry's job to protect him, his job to pick him up when he fell. Granted, he hadn't always done a helluva good job but he was damn well going to start when Shawn opened his eyes to the world.

He closed Shawn's nose in one hand and held his chin in the other, and blew smalls breaths, fear twisting at his insides and knotting his stomach, fighting with him to wrench out an emotion Henry knew wasn't going to do a damn thing in this whole situation.

The thing was, Hank could afford to give up. Hank could walk away and forget, maybe not immediately, but over time, Shawn would fade away in his memories just like what he had for lunch last week. Shawn was not an easily forgotten memory. He burned bright in Henry's mind like a comet – this enigmatic thing that shot across skies and glittered with the ferocity that _made_ people remember. And no one forgets when they see a comet.

Hank's hands slowly slipped out of their position on Shawn's chest and he looked at Henry with sympathy. He opened his mouth to deliver words Henry wouldn't listen to until every last ounce of his energy was drained trying to bring back his son. No one was allowed to give up. Not until he did.

"No," Henry hissed, his words sharp and biting. "Goddammit, you do not give up, Hank!"

The man's eyes met with Henry's and there should have been words, there should have been some type of communication between the two, but there wasn't and maybe there didn't need to be. This was personal to Henry.

Hank put his hands back on Shawn's chest.

Henry continued the routine, giving breaths after a round of compressions, stopping, repeating. His sole focus was on Shawn, yet he couldn't look at him for more than a few seconds without being hit with a torrent of emotions so strong it left him like a shell, an exterior of a man he formerly used to be, nothing inside but drowning thoughts and a numb sense that maybe there should have been a warning in all this before it ever started.

And then, within an instant, the sound of spattering coughs broke the intense silence between the two men. Henry immediately pulled Shawn to his side as the surplus water surfaced out of his mouth. Relief washed over Henry like a cleansing ritual, ridding his earlier emotions in one fell swoop. Forget panic, forget desolation, forget anything but Shawn and the glorious sound of his breathing.

A few seconds later someone amongst the crowd emerged with two big towels for the drenched Spencers. Henry took the offer gratefully as Hank helped Shawn slowly sit up in a comfortable position and then Henry gingerly wrapped the second towel around his son.

Shawn began shivering between his quick breaths and there could not have been a more glorious sound. It swirled around him like a sweet melody of resolution and relief. This massive, massive bout of relief that struck a chord with Henry that resonated so deeply he felt it in his toes. It overtook him so much he almost didn't realise that his son had yet to say a single word.

Shawn looked up at his father, eyes glistening. They couldn't have been tears, though, Henry reasoned with himself. He'd just pulled him out of water, after all.

"Well, in my defence," Shawn made a start, "Gus _had_ been nagging me to have the car washed all week." Shawn brought a fist to his mouth, trapping his cough.

The immense swoop of genuine happiness, an emotion that stole Henry's heart and had a facsimile of a smile trapping his features, seemed to heighten at Shawn's words. He clapped a supportive hand onto his son's shoulder, gently squeezing what was tangible.

"Shawn, it's at the bottom of the ocean," Henry couldn't help but remark.

"Just consider it a SuperWash," Shawn shrugged beneath his father's shoulder squeeze.

Henry's eyes trained on the t-shirt that clung to Shawn's soaked skin – and the unbelievable way that it rose and fell with each shaky breath. He noticed the way Shawn's eyes lingered on his gaze and he quickly looked away, suddenly hearing the blaring sound of an ambulance making its way down to the marina.

Shawn's hazel eyes shifted to Hank, who had given the father and son room.

Moments later, the paramedics rushed onto the docks, much to the amusement of the bystanders, medical bags flapping against their hips as they rushed to the scene. While the stout one with the black hair observed Shawn – Henry very close by – Hank filled in the other on what had happened. The blonde, blue-eyed paramedic commended Hank and Henry for their rescue.

The paramedic's eyes flitted down to the marks on Shawn's neck with interest.

Shawn noticed the way the paramedic was fixated on his neck. "There was a…previous…incident." He looked over at Henry with a smirk. "Two for two, huh?"

Henry couldn't help but have his vision melt for a second as he lost himself in the night only a day previously and the way his son's voice had cracked. The way his invisible barrier over his son had earned some cracks and fissures and the way that Henry tried desperately to ignore them.

So Henry just stared at his son, not responding – in all honesty, not really able to. He was pretty exhausted right about then. He'd already been aching from the wear and tear of the previous day and he'd just revived his son on a boardwalk while complete strangers watched. He was not in the mood to dish out a classic Henry Reprimand.

As they sat by the pier, Shawn turned to his father with a wry look.

"Hey…you thinkin'…what I'm thinkin'?"

Henry rolled his blue eyes over to his son. "I can't possibly imagine, no."

"You're Kate Winslet, I'm Leo DiCaprio." Shawn winked.

"Shawn, how is this anything related like _that._"

"Is too!" Shawn retorted. "I was in the water."

Henry shook the dejá vu feeling from himself. "But you're not anymore."

"Dad, just roll with this. I'm clearly the heroic, rakishly good-looking one and you're…pale and have bad taste in clothing," Shawn said in his condescending voice.

Henry put both hands over his face and then slowly dragged them down, feeling the creases in his face along the way, convinced half of them had developed over the past two days. "You're out of your mind if you think _you _get to be DiCaprio. If anything, this is _A Fistful of Dollars." _

"What?! That's not even related to this at all!" Shawn exclaimed.

Henry turned to his son. "Oh, you get to make ridiculous references and I don't? _I _saved your ass this time. I get to pick what this is."

Shawn's expression shifted for a moment, impaired by the weight of Henry's statement. He shot back pretty quick, "But really? _A Fistful of Dollars_? Couldn't you at least make it relatable?"

"Fine, it's like _Eagle Eye. _You're Shia LaBoof."

Shawn visibly winced. "Did you _intentionally _take a scythe to that name or did you mistake one of the greatest conspiracy movie actors as a wheat field?"

"I'll need to scythe the fact that you just called a mediocre, limited actor 'one of the best'," Henry cut back.

"Limited actor? Have you not seen _Transformers_?"

"You're only digging yourself deeper…_Holes_." The corner of Henry's mouth twitched as it fought to take flight into a smile.

"You just made thatreference? You are donearguing with me on plausible plot points." Shawn's head drooped to the side and Henry gently guided it to rest on his shoulder.

Briefly, Henry wondered if he meant something else by what he said. "Yeah, I'm done arguing."

Shawn smiled. "Okay, Shia La_Boof_."

* * *

><p>"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU SHAWN!" Gus stormed into the Chief's office without even knocking, his wrenching of the door opening and slamming against the wall a bit unsettling, for his usual polite demeanor. "I used a bus to get here. I had to sit next to a creepy old woman that smelled like denture cream and kept ogling me the whole way. She was wearing Croc shoes, Shawn. You know how I feel about those."<p>

"That they're a squishy delight on your feet?"

"They were practically designed for hobos!"

"Everyone used to wear them."

"_Used to_, Shawn, used to. There's a reason why everyone wouldn't be caught dead wearing them now." Gus's nostrils flared.

"Whoa. Take it easy, buddy. I've just been through a near-death experience, show a little sympathy." Shawn put on his best wounded expression, but still smiling at his friend's outrage. Now that the whole, Oh-my-dear-Lord-I-almost-died incident was over, humour could shine its loyal way through.

"And you're about to have another one if you don't return my car this minute!" Gus was ferocious as he pointed a finger in Shawn's face.

"Hey, at least I had it washed for you!" Shawn smacked it away from him.

"You washed the blueberry?" Shawn's statement had Gus settle down a minor fraction.

"Define 'washed'." For once, Shawn looked sheepish in his admittance.

"The car took a swan dive to the lake," Henry pitched in.

"Wait, what?" Gus was confused, turning from Shawn and then back to Henry, searching for a proper explanation.

"Mr. Guster, from what Shawn has reported someone tampered with your breaks." Karen tried to be placating to the pharmaceutical salesman.

"Wait…" Gus turned back to his best friend, fear suddenly capturing his earlier emotion. "What near death experience are you talking about?"

Shawn looked indignant. "I'm talking about almost drowning, what are _you _talking about?"

"I'm talking about you getting almost strangled." Gus was genuinely surprised and felt his earlier anger diminishing, trying to decipher why his emotions were scattered all about him in a way that he couldn't gather, at least not standing.

"That was so yesterday," Shawn waved his hand in notion of his tone. At Gus's silence, he faltered, then said quieter, "My voice doesn't even croak anymore." At the continual silence, Shawn's gaze flicked up to the ceiling, thinking to himself. "Or is it strangled? Or does that only work if you're dead? Do you say near-strangulation?" he looked back to Gus.

Gus looked contemplative, too, for a moment, lost in the usual back and forth that made him and Shawn…well, him and Shawn. "I think it's near-strangulation."

"Isn't that kind of a mouthful, though?" Shawn questioned.

"Not if you're too damn lazy to say a full sentence."

"I am not _that_ lazy!"

"Oh, right. So it was _you _that cleaned the entire office after that unfortunate pineapple cake experiment?"

"Excuse me!" Karen cut in, looking irritated. "I think we have more pressing matters to deal with. The same intruder that attacked you two"-she looked at Henry and Shawn-"may have attempted to attack you as well."

"Why would he go after Gus? What reason would he have?" Shawn asked curiously.

"And when would he have had time to tamper with the car under your nose, Gus?" Juliet asked.

"Actually, it's not that hard when you-" Shawn chimed in, receiving a sharp look from his best friend that had him stop midway.

"We can safely assume if my son managed to take that car without Gus noticing then…"

"Then the killer would have managed it as well," Juliet finished knowingly.

"Who did you piss off this time, Spencer?" Lassiter asked from his position at the head of the room, where he'd been standing in a stoic silence.

"Me? Why me? It was Gus's car!" Shawn looked genuinely offended by Lassiter's accusation.

"Because you have the tendency to have that effect on people."

"And Gus doesn't? The guy sells drugs for a living!"

"I sell medically approved drug treatments. There's a difference."

"No, there really isn't."

"Would you girls stop bickering for one second so we can get to the bottom of this?" Henry exclaimed, irritation crossing his features like a shadow.

"Mr Guster," the Chief authoritatively took command once more, "I'm assigning you an officer till we figure out what the hell is going on. Till then, I suggest you remain cautious." Her tone was terse, as she, too, was irritated by the incessant bickering.

"What about my car?" Gus retorted.

"It's being processed as we speak-"

"You don't understand. How many times do I have to tell you people? It's a company car. My boss will have my head for sure this time!" Gus was pretty sure he was the only sane one right about then. Or maybe, he reasoned, he really wasn't. Maybe this was all some terrible nightmare in which he would wake up from in a blind panic, throwing his sheets aside and rushing to the window to see that the Blueberry was still parked safely in the lot.

Except that pinching his arm wasn't exactly working to prove the theory.

"Relax, buddy, I've done way worse to that car in the pas-" When Gus sent him an appalled look Shawn held his tongue. "Did…I just say all of that out loud?"

Gus glared at Shawn stonily for a good few seconds. "Why did you even take my car, Shawn? What's wrong with your motorcycle?" Gus couldn't help but picture the poor Echo in the bottom of the ocean, all of the delicious snacks he'd hidden in the glove compartment gone to waste. Actually, those Jaffa Cakes he'd imported from Europe had probably been already eaten by Shawn, come to think of it. The one time he'd actually given Shawn a morsel of one, his best friend had grabbed the entire thing out of his hand and declared, "This is like that time I was on the morphine pump! Remember?" likening the delicious snack to his first motorcycle incident. Remembering that time and then yesterday and now today, snapshots of moments when Shawn had royally screwed up and not gotten away by the skin of his teeth, like normal, made him visibly wince. It was a compilation of a scrapbook Gus didn't always want to be a part of but he was, plastered among the eccentric pages – and he was damn well going to be in them driving his company car.

"Because you hid my keys, and I wouldn't have had the time to go all the way to my dad's house and reach the pier in time," Shawn said back, unaware of his father's hidden look of guilt.

"Firstly, what would I be doing with your motorcycle keys? Secondly, 'in time' for what?" Gus wondered if he should maybe sit down. All these unanswered questions swirling about his head were making him dizzy.

"I don't know, Gus!" Shawn said in frustration in relation to his first question, hoping to avoid answering the second. "You do a lot of weird things I can't explain – like keep that popuara stuff in your drawer!"

"It's _potpourri_."

"I've heard it both-"

"No you haven't! And how do you know…" Gus stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing into slits.

"What?" Shawn clasped a hand to his chest like Gus was staring daggers into it. "I only needed your fuzzy socks for a _moment._"

"So that's where my aloe-infused socks went!" Gus seethed. "I _knew _I hadn't lost them!"

"Oh, relax, I'll give them back," Shawn said airily. "You won't mind if they have a little…peanut butter in them, will you?"

Gus lunged for his best friend but Lassiter held him back with a scowl.

"I'm gonna kill you, Shawn!" Gus roared. "Those were very expensive!"

"Enough!" Karen and Henry both exclaimed. Karen then took the lead. "If you two are done please close the door on your way out. And Mr Spencer-" both Spencers looked up; nope, not going through that again, "-Shawn, we would like to see to it that your mode of transportation has not been tampered with to avoid any future occurrences."

Shawn merely nodded, as did Henry, in concurrence.

"In the meantime, stay out of trouble," the Chief concluded while staring knowingly at the young faux-psychic, and earning a condescending snort from her head detective, to which she sent a glare in return.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: (I'm just going to hide...) **


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